


The Magic of Cats on May Day

by rubyofkukundu



Category: Jonathan Strange & Mr Norrell & Related Fandoms, Jonathan Strange & Mr Norrell - Susanna Clarke
Genre: Gen, Humor
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-03
Updated: 2016-04-03
Packaged: 2018-05-30 23:08:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,661
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6445969
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rubyofkukundu/pseuds/rubyofkukundu
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Mr Norrell attempts to decipher a spell.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Magic of Cats on May Day

One morning in early September, both Mr Norrell and Childermass were to be found in the library at Hanover Square. Mr Norrell was sat reading in an armchair, and Childermass was at his small table writing letters. Such a scene was hardly unusual, and for a long while the room was filled only with the sound of Childermass' pen scratching upon the paper and the light patter of rain upon the windows.

Eventually, however, the quiet was broken, as Mr Norrell, while still reading, said, "Childermass, do you know of any?"

Childermass looked up. "Do I know of any what, sir?"

"In here." Norrell held up the book and looked to Childermass. "Cats."

"Cats, sir?"

"Yes," confirmed Norrell.

The rain pattered upon the windows some more.

"I'm afraid I don't understand," said Childermass.

Norrell blinked at him. "In this book," he said, holding it up again. "Rutland's 'Inquiries'.1 There's a spell here about cats, which I don't quite understand. Do you know of the magic of cats?"

"Not particularly," said Childermass. "There's the 'Dance of Old Tom', or the 'White Cat of Lady Rushwood'..."2

"No no no." Norrell shook his head. "I have thought of those already, but this spell appears to be about something else entirely." He looked down at the page. "May day seems to be significant."

At this point Childermass stood so that he might cross the room and peer at the book over Mr Norrell's shoulder. And upon doing so, Childermass went very still.

"Well?" asked Norrell, turning to look up at him.

Childermass looked to Norrell, then he looked back to the page. He read out the title of the spell: "Dear Pussy and the Maypole". A long smile crawled its way across Childermass' face.

"Do you know it?" asked Norrell.

"This spell, sir?" Childermass seemed to concentrate very hard on pursing his lips together and looking across at the wall. "I have not heard of it before."

Norrell sighed. "But what can it be about? I have read it over five times now and its meaning is entirely obscure to me; I honestly cannot say what the spell is attempting to achieve. Do you know anything that might relate cats to May day?"

Childermass coughed. "Pussies and Maypoles?"

"Precisely," said Norrell.

Childermass coughed some more. "I do not know of any magic that links cats to May day, Mr Norrell. But perhaps, if you will consider, perhaps the meaning has been obscured on purpose."

"I do not understand you," said Norrell.

"Perhaps," said Childermass deliberately, "pussies and Maypoles are not supposed to signify cats and May day. Perhaps they are supposed to signify something else entirely."

"You mean some kind of code?" asked Norrell.

Childermass' smile returned. He stared at the wall some more. "Ay; something like that."

Mr Norrell put the book in his lap and looked down at it. He hummed in thought. "Pussies... Maypoles..."

Childermass coughed again. His shoulders shook.

"Are you well, Childermass?" asked Norrell. "You seem to have developed a cough."

"I am quite well, sir." He looked down at Norrell. "Have you considered...?" Childermass appeared to be thinking. "May day is an ancient festival, I imagine. Related to fertility, or so I hear."

"Ah," said Norrell. "This spell relates to planting, then? Agriculture? If so, is a pussy a type of crop? A method of farming? And why is a Maypole used instead of... Childermass, you are coughing again."

"I am sorry." Childermass covered his mouth with his hand and turned away. His shoulders shook some more.

"This will not do," declared Norrell. "You know how much work I have to do this week! I must see the ministers tomorrow and on Thursday and how am I supposed to get by if you are too ill to help me!"

"I am not ill," contested Childermass. "You need not worry; I am not..."

"Yes you are," said Norrell. "Your face is flushed. I will not have you running a fever! Sit down. Sit down and take some brandy before you get worse."

And so Mr Norrell rang the bell and asked for a glass of brandy for Childermass, which was duly brought in. Once Norrell was satisfied that Childermass was sitting calmly at his little table again, with his glass and writing letters, Norrell once more returned to his book and bothered Childermass with no further questions about it.

Half an hour later this quiet scene in the library was disturbed when Strange arrived for his lesson. "Good morning, Mr Norrell," said he. "What ho! Childermass, are you drinking brandy?"

"Childermass is ill," declared Norrell. "Please do not disturb him, Mr Strange. I cannot suffer him to get any worse. I cannot."

"Very well." Strange shrugged and turned to his mentor. "Then I shall continue from where I left off yesterday, if that is agreeable to you?"3

"Yes." Norrell nodded, smiling. "Yes; certainly."

Strange therefore sat down at the large table in the middle of the room and set to his books. Yet this did not last long, for after only a few minutes, Mr Norrell, who had been reading over the spell in Rutland's "Inquiries" once again, looked up at Strange and asked, "Mr Strange, are you familiar with pussy?"

"I beg your pardon?" exclaimed Strange.

"This spell here in Rutland's 'Inquiries'," explained Norrell. "I cannot make out what it is supposed to achieve. Childermass thinks that 'pussy' might be a code for something else but I do not know what it could be. Have you come across pussy in your reading?"

At this, Strange smiled a very ironical smile. He looked over to Childermass, but Childermass, it appeared, was busy at his letters and did not notice. "I cannot say that I have," said Strange. He rose from his table and crossed the room to sit in the armchair beside Norrell's. Strange gestured for Norrell to pass him the book. "If you will permit me, sir."

Norrell blinked at him, and then said, "Oh. Yes; of course." He handed Strange the book.

"Hmm," said Strange as he crossed one knee over the other and settled back in his chair. "'Dear Pussy and the Maypole'," he read out. The smile upon his face had not decreased in the slightest. "'Dear Pussy is a dainty thing, proud with lustrous fur...'" He read further down the page. "'...strong Maypole, thou worthy shaft... Pussy will fain be wet as a pool...' Ah." Strange took a breath. "'...set to, thou Maypole... Dearest Pussy shall drinketh of the cream...'" Strange looked up, directing his ironical smile at the fireplace. "Well then," he said. From behind him there came a choking sort of noise.

Norrell turned around in alarm. "Childermass, are you coughing again?"

"I am fine, sir," said Childermass, coughing some more behind his hand. "I am fine."

"Mr Strange," hissed Norrell, "will you kindly keep your voice down? I cannot have you exciting Childermass when he is already ill."

"My apologies," said Strange, still smiling at the fireplace. After moment he took a deep breath and looked down at the book in his hand, then he turned to Norrell. "And so, sir, you say you have no inclination as to what this might mean?"

Mr Norrell shook his head. "No; I do not. Why would anyone wish to have a spell for feeding cream to cats? Indeed, I am completely at a loss as to what this has to do with May day. Childermass suggested that it might somehow relate to agriculture."

"Did he now?" said Strange, turning to look at Childermass again, but Childermass, red-faced, was busy at his letters. Strange turned back to Norrell.

Norrell blinked up at him expectantly. "Well, Mr Strange? Can you think of anything that might enlighten us?"

Strange uncrossed his legs, put a hand to his mouth, and made a show of thought. "Perhaps," said he after a moment, "it does not relate to May day in general, but to the Maypole in particular." He glanced at Norrell.

"How so?" asked Norrell.

"Perhaps, indeed," said Strange, "it might be the shape of the Maypole that is important."

"Ah," said Norrell. His eyes widened. "Is that why the spell makes mention of a shaft? Could this spell relate to trees, do you think?"

"It... Hmm." Strange rubbed at his mouth and turned away. For several moments he sat looking out at the rain through the window. Childermass coughed quietly in the corner.

"But I still do not see how this relates to cats," said Norrell. "Is it something to do with the way cats climb trees?"

"You might have hit upon it," admitted Strange. He turned his attention back to Norrell and graced him with a polite smile. "We must consider what we know about cats: they are furry, for one..."

"And they have claws," added Norrell. He thought some more. "They catch mice... and birds..."

"And," said Strange, his smile growing, "they are thought of as rather feminine creatures."

"Yes," agreed Norrell. He looked up at Strange.

"Rather feminine..." repeated Strange. "If only there was some way we could relate this to a Maypole..."

"I do not know how," admitted Norrell with a shake of the head.

"No," agreed Strange. "But I think we may be on the right path here. I believe this may relate to women and womanly things."

Mr Norrell nodded. "Do you think so?"

"After all, what are women known for?" continued Strange. "What might one do with a woman that one could not do with anyone else?"

"Oh!" said Norrell. "Needlework?"

At this there was an almighty bark of laughter from the other side of the room. In surprise, both Norrell and Strange turned around to find that Childermass had collapsed upon his small table and was giggling into the tabletop.

"Childermass!" cried Mr Norrell, his face white with alarm. "Your fever has made you delirious!" And Norrell stood and rang the bell, while crying, "Lucas! Lucas!" until Lucas arrived. By this time, poor Childermass had nearly slid to the floor in his convulsions. He held onto his sides as if they hurt a great deal.

"Lucas," said Norrell hurriedly, "you must see that Childermass is put to bed. He is running a fever and may be very unwell."

Lucas looked to Childermass, then looked back to Norrell.

"On no account must he get out of bed until he is better; I know he will try to rise before he is ready, so you must not let him. And you will fetch a doctor if he shows any signs of growing worse. Send for me immediately if you do so."

Lucas looked to Childermass again. "He is very unwell, sir?" queried Lucas.

"Yes! Yes!" cried Norrell. "Do you not see how he is unable to stand? Help him. Help him up and put him to bed."

Thus Lucas gave Childermass his shoulder to lean on and, with Childermass red-faced, weak-kneed and still shuddering with his delirium, helped him from the room.

Mr Norrell stared at the closed door once they had gone and wrung his hands together. "Do you think he is very ill, Mr Strange? I cannot have Childermass ill now. I cannot! How shall I get everything done if Childermass is not there to see to it?"

Strange, who appeared to be rather unconcerned by this turn of events, said that he was sure Childermass would make a quick recovery.

"I hope so," said Norrell, sitting back down, but still casting glances over at the door. "I hope so. Though perhaps I should call for a doctor now."

"There will be no need," said Strange with a smile. "You know that Childermass has a strong constitution. I have never known him ill for more than a day; he will be fine."

"You are right. You are right," agreed Norrell, though his face was still pale. He took Rutland's "Inquiries" as Strange handed it back to him and blinked down at the page.

Strange cleared his throat.

"You believe, then, Mr Strange," said Norrell, shaking his head and clearly attempting to return to the matter at hand, "that this spell links needlework to trees?"

Strange laughed out loud. "Mr dear sir," said he. "I suggest we do not trouble ourselves with this spell any longer. It is clear that we are none the wiser after all our discussion. 'Dear Pussy and the Maypole' could mean anything."

"Oh, but..." started Norrell.

"Come, Mr Norrell," said Strange. "Have you not told me before that Rutland's 'Inquiries' is a terrible book? Full of half-truths and obscure notions? Such a book, sir, is hardly worth your time."

"You are right," agreed Norrell. "But I had hoped that, perhaps, if I were able to understand this one spell, then I might discover a key that would unlock some meaning to the rest of the book. That if we we were to find the key, it might not be so obscure after all."4

"I very much doubt it," said Strange with a smile. "That book is not worth the effort, I am sure." He stood and walked back over to his books at the table. "Now, sir, will you help me with Lanchester instead? Why bother with Rutland when we have Lanchester? For there are some points that I need you to explain to me."

Thus Norrell went over to help Strange with his understanding of Lanchester, and agreed, after some further prompting from Strange, that he would not trouble himself with Rutland's "Inquiries" again.5

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

1\. "Inquiries into the Nature of Common Events" by Gervase Rutland; a book that Norrell did not think much of, it being full of many spells and parables that made little sense. As a consequence, Norrell had not looked into this book for many years. (Go back)

2\. I am sure you know of these two magical tales, for who does not? Neither tells us anything of worth, however; so I shan't insult you by reciting them here. (Go back)

3\. Mr Norrell had asked Mr Strange to read several passages from Thomas Lanchester's "Language of Birds", and Strange was currently in the process of doing so. At the same time, Mr Norrell had expressly forbidden Strange to read several other passages in that same book as they were "of the worst sort imaginable"; thus Strange took care to read these also, but only when Norrell was out of the room. (Go back)

4\. You need not have me tell you, I imagine, why the deciphering of this book would be a terrible idea. Gervase Rutland was, it must be said, a clergyman, but you will not be surprised to hear that he was so loose in his values that he was said to have scandalised, among others, his entire congregation, three bishops, and a duchess. (Go back)

5\. For all Norrell's good intentions, however; it seems that he was not able to resist the puzzle that was 'Dear Pussy and the Maypole'. A few weeks later, as neither Childermass nor Strange had been able to help him any closer to an answer, Mr Norrell instead turned to Lord Portishead. Portishead was highly flattered to have been asked for his opinion. Unfortunately, Portishead was a good and simple man and was as puzzled by the spell as was Norrell himself. They agreed, however, that the spell would benefit from further research, and so Portishead went away to write an article about it for "The Friends of English Magic". Some two months later, when the article was finished, the servants of Mr Henry Lascelles, then sometime editor of "The Friends", were shocked one morning to hear Mr Lascelles laughing hysterically from his study. So loud was this laughter that they felt obliged to check on their master to ensure that he was well. Upon opening the door to Lascelles' study, they discovered him, still laughing, feeding Lord Portishead's manuscript to the fire in the hearth. (Go back)


End file.
